


An unexpected Christmas

by you_make_me_wander



Series: Stydia one-shots [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Mentions of other members of the pack, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 20:22:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5757019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/you_make_me_wander/pseuds/you_make_me_wander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Lydia spend their first Christmas together when a misfortune doesn’t allow them go home for the holidays. It ends up being just what they needed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An unexpected Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys. I’ve been sick these last few days, was even hospitalized and everything so my updates are delayed. I have quite a few chapters to post in the next few days and I’ll post one a day if I can since I can’t strain myself too much yet. We’ll see how this goes.
> 
> There will be a one-shot coming up either this week or the next that’s a continuation of this fic, alluding to the first 10 Christmases that Stiles and Lydia spend together as a couple, and this is the story of their first one (it’s been slightly edited compared to the one posted on stydiasecretsanta on tumblr).
> 
> This fic was written for Stydia Secret Santa on tumblr, for Erica, thegirlwhorunswithwolves. I loved writing this and I hope you like it.

“No.” Lydia shakes her head and mutters repeatedly as if Stiles can already hear her, which he can’t. He’s making his way towards her but is still a few feet away, trying his very best to not bump into everyone on the way. The airport is completely crowed. “No, no, no, no-”

He meets her quickly though, sadness all over his features. “I’m sorry, Lyds. Looks like we’re not going anywhere.”

Lydia curses under her breath, curses the weather and the heavens above because they had been so excited about this and now everything is ruined. She almost gives in to tears and she couldn’t care less if she does. She’s allowed to.

It’s their first year at college and she and Stiles are studying across the country and were supposed to go back home for Christmas, but the weather had other plans for them. A storm hit town and so, still clinging to a little bit of hope (even if they knew it was most likely a wasted trip), they rushed to the airport to see if they could embark on their flight anyway.

As expected, not a single plane is taking off.

It’s Christmas Eve day and Stiles and Lydia won’t get to be with their family and friends for the winter holidays this year.

Stiles doesn’t hesitate in wrapping his arms around her and Lydia lets him, welcoming the comfort he always provides, a comfort that she’s more than familiar with by now. “I’m sorry. I know you really wanted to go home.”

Lydia wipes away a tear from the corner of her eye, not minding that Stiles is paying attention to her.

(When is he not, anyway?)

"It's okay. You wanted to go home too."

"Yeah, this sucks."

Stiles only realizes that he's still holding her after a few seconds, when Lydia seems to realize it as well and blushes at the proximity. He lets go almost reluctantly.

(It’s been happening more and more often lately but he can't help it.

In truth, neither can she.

And it’s not like they want to, anyway.)

"So uh-" it’s the only thing she lets out, pursing her lips and tucking her hair behind her ears, adjusting her beanie distractedly after that.

Stiles rubs the back of his neck. "We... We should get going. The sooner we get out of here, the better. They told me that the storm is gonna get worse and there won’t be any flights until at least noon tomorrow. We were just gonna go for the extended weekend so it doesn’t make sense for us to go back to California anymore, I think.” Lydia nods, looking down and biting on her lip sadly. “I don't want to spend Christmas at the airport."

"Yeah, you're right," she sighs. “Lets just go.”

Stiles picks up both his and her luggage before she can even turn around, and lets her lead the way back to the parking lot. "Come on, then. We can call the pack on our way back."

xxxxxxxxxx

They don’t.

Stiles is far too alert while driving, paying excruciating attention to the road and to the pouring rain that just won’t stop falling, and Lydia is far too aware of how he’s cautious, so she decides on making the phone call wait and be watchful with him as much as she can, just in case.

The weather just worsens as they approach campus, their moods and grumpiness right along with it. It's barely 6AM (their early flight was literally the only one they could get on to be back in California in time for Christmas Eve), they haven't slept that much the night before what with last minute packing, and the traffic is so congested that, by the time they get home, Stiles and Lydia realize it took them over two and a half hours to make a drive that usually would take them less than forty minutes.

It doesn't help much either that they start arguing over where they're headed when they’re halfway home.

("Stiles, you don't have a heater. I _am not_ going to spend Christmas freezing! We’re going to _my_ dorm."

“Not if you want to starve yourself to death, we’re not!”

“I can cook!” she huffs.

“Desserts are not meals, Lydia.”)

They end up compromising, like they always do.

They stop by her dorm first and Stiles is the one who goes inside to get her electric heater and a handful of blankets, but what he gets is drenched in the process. Lydia rolls her eyes at him when he’s back behind the wheel and starts complaining about the fact that his baby – Roscoe, obviously - is now getting wet because of their bad luck and the shitty storm. Stiles pays Lydia’s mocking face no mind and just glares back at her as per usual, muttering under his breath that if Lydia wasn’t such a disaster in the kitchen and had actual food in her apartment, they could have stayed in her dorm just fine.

She thinks of retorting a snarky comment at his ramblings, but soon enough they’re arriving to his dorm and she’s the one whose clothes get soaked as soon as she leaps out of the Jeep, after they decide that it’s better if they just carry everything back upstairs before the streets are flooded and they can’t come down to pick up some of their things anymore.

(“You’re moving, Stiles, I swear to god!” he hears her mumble when they’re marching up the stairs, freezing and trying their best not to let their belongings fall to the floor with how much they’re shaking because of the cold. “You need to move! Who in their right mind would even get an apartment on a third floor?”

He can’t help the smile that escapes him. “It suits me just fine. Who ever thought you’d spend so much time here anyways?”

That shuts her up.)

The bickering only comes up again, briefly, when Lydia’s hands are so cold that one of her bags does slip from her fingers and makes her trip on it, resulting in the banshee almost falling on her face if Stiles wasn’t right behind her to avoid it, but as it turns out his hands are even colder than hers and Lydia reflexively flinches away from him and his icy touch when she straightens up, just full on glaring at him, fuming. It does nothing but incite him to get his hands on her more, teasingly.

Usually (and it’s been happening more and more, not that she can complain much) it’s wherever he finds naked skin of hers – like on her arms or her cheeks, sometimes her shoulders or lower back if he dares (happened over the summer, ended up with Lydia throwing him into the pool only for Stiles to come back out and take her with him) -, but this time he goes for her neck.

He goes for her neck and she hates when he does this because Stiles ends up getting away with feeling like a freaking ice block and actually enjoying watching Lydia’s skin break into goosebumps as she shivers non-stop because he decided to be an ass. Lydia doesn’t have it in her to chastise him much, however, when he looks so genuinely happy for working her up and it’s so rare that he does with the life they lead.

(She’d like to say that she hates herself for it, but she really doesn’t. Not always.)

(Okay, just a handful of times really. Maybe she doesn’t mind that he puts his hands on her _that_ much.)

(It’s not a big deal.)

He wins her over easily (with a stupid grin on his face that she wants to wipe away, mind you) when he turns on the heater as soon as they’re inside his apartment and offers her a towel so she can dry herself. In twenty minutes, they have both changed to more comfortable clothes and apologies were muttered cordially because that’s how they work, even though they’re bantering again when they finally sit down for the breakfast they were gonna have on the plane.

Lydia slaps his hand away playfully when he goes for the toast she was just about to pick up from the plate, laughing when he pouts. And he always pouts so adorably… “So, what now?”

Stiles sips on his latte, letting his fingers stay wrapped around his mug for warmth. “I don’t know. My dad hasn’t answered me and Scott’s probably still asleep, so I’ll just wait until Dad checks my voicemail and calls me back. What did your mom say?”

They had tried to contact the pack when they were changing, but the only person they could reach was Natalie what with still being so early. Lydia rather not share just yet all the comments that her mother made about _them_ and about how this is, technically, Stiles and Lydia’s first Christmas together.

How can Lydia ever even bring up such a subject without sounding too hopeful?

(She is, though. And _it is_ , in fact, _their_ first Christmas…)

“Nothing much. Just that she really wanted to see us and all that” is what she lets out.

Stiles doesn’t need to see Lydia purse her lips and look away from him to know that she’s lying, but he chooses not to say anything about it. “So what are our plans for today? Is there something you want to do?”

Lydia tilts her head. “Besides nothing?” She smirks. “I doubt it.”

“If we’re staying in,” he says in between bites, “we’re decorating. I don’t care if it’s the 24th already, I want some Christmas spirit up in here.”

Lydia frowns. “Stiles,” she whines, “do we have to?”

He smiles cheekily. “Absolutely.”

He knows that holidays are not really her thing - not since she was a kid and both her parents were there for her - and it’s not like he’s big on it either – not since his mother passed away -, but this is different. It’s not about other, older times and it’s not about parents that aren’t there anymore.

This is about _them_ and them alone, and if they’re stranded by themselves miles away from their loved ones, it’s best if they at least try to make the most of it.

“Come on,” he cheers. “It doesn’t have to be nothing much, alright? We don’t even have much to decorate here. But it’s gonna be fun, you’ll see.”

Lydia intends on disagreeing with him because there’s no way a rainy, thundery Christmas away from home (well, their other home) can work out that well, but before she can Stiles steals a slice of toast, this time successfully, and the bickering starts again.

Their morning passes quickly between unpacking and making plans for the day, alongside literally not doing much of anything because they’re tired.

(“Jesus, Stiles. Why is your room so tiny?”

“Because I wasn’t counting on sharing.”

It makes Lydia roll her eyes and spread her stuff even more throughout his room, just so that he knows that two can fit in there but barely.

Stiles counts it as a win.)

The only decoration they end up doing is bringing a small artificial Christmas tree that Stiles had in his room to the living room and having a small branch of mistletoe (just there purely for the purpose of being there, _of course_ ) hanging from the living room chandelier, along with a few festive drawings that Lydia entertains herself with on two of his windows with snow spray and a couple of Christmas lights that Stiles scatters around the apartment. Overall it’s not that festive, but Stiles puts on some Christmas carols playing lowly on the background and it ends up feeling not as bad as they feared it would.

By the time Stiles gets ahold of his dad - and, like Lydia, is reminded that this is his first Christmas together with the strawberry blonde -, Lydia is preparing some sandwiches for their lunch.

(Stiles only lets her do it because she won’t actually have to cook anything and his building is safe from burning down.)

He teases her endlessly about it, but Lydia all but rolls her eyes and shakes her head with a small smile threatening to escape her lips, holding his hand in hers for a second too long when he’s about to reach over her petite frame to get a glass from the cabinet and almost lets it fall when she suddenly turns around and they are too close, and Lydia has to steady his hand for the glass not to slip from his grasp and shatter.

As the day goes by and _moments_ start happening, tension starts rising. And for once, it’s not a bad one.

His phone call with his dad is brief because the Sheriff suggests that they Skype as a way of attenuating the ache of not having the kids home. Both Stiles and Lydia agree, knowing that the pack is gonna spend the day together and so, at least in a way, they’ll get to see everyone.

Stiles sets up his laptop on the coffee table and makes the connection when they’re done eating lunch, fighting with Lydia over the blankets when she comes to sit beside him and, of course, exactly when their pack appears on the screen.

“Hey, you two,” their Alpha greets all too amused with what he’s seeing. “Everything okay in there?”

“Scott!” Stiles exclaims excitedly at the voice of his best friend, allowing Lydia to steal the blanket all to herself. “Dad!”

“Hey, guys,” she says with a grin, waving for the camera.

Stiles just pulls her legs over his so that he’s not out in the cold.

(And yes, just because of that.)

It still distracts him for a second. “We’re so sorry we couldn’t make it,” he says. “We were really counting on going home but the storm is not getting any better.”

It really isn’t. The wind is picking up and Lydia has caught Stiles checking on his Jeep three times in the last hour alone, afraid that it’ll drown. She wants to mock him for it but then she remembers that he’d probably kill her if she ever offended his baby, so she stays quiet about it and just eyes him amused.

Every member of the pack wishes Stiles and Lydia happy holidays and chat with them for a bit, and everything is going well until _someone_ decides to ruin it.

“Is that mistletoe?”

 _Liam_.

Of course it had to be Liam.

Stiles and Lydia look over their shoulders at the same time, eyeing the branch with some apprehension. “Hmm, yeah. It’s Christmas after all, so we thought we should put it up,” Stiles tries to explain.

“Oh. I think that asks for a kiss, then.” It’s Scott this time, inciting their best friends to do something about their feelings the same way he’s been trying to do for a few months now. Kira nods to support her boyfriend, and soon enough everyone has a big grin plastered on their faces and is asking for the same thing.

“Guys, we’re not _under_ the mistletoe,” Lydia tells them. “It’s actually behind us.” And it is. “It just looks like we are to you because it’s where the camera is pointing at.”

“It’s just a matter of perspective,” Stiles adds, and Lydia smiles at him for backing her up.

Stiles winks at her in return. She knows that that doesn’t help their case at all.

Sure enough, the others start complaining and demanding a kiss regardless.

Stiles gets nervous and wants to tell them to stop, but at the same time he wants to play the pack just to get back at them for constantly trying to get him and Lydia together. It’s not like he doesn’t want to get together with Lydia because he does, god _he does_ but if they’re meant to be together, he trusts that he and Lydia will get there on their own.

He doesn’t know for sure if Lydia feels the same way, but ever since he rescued her from Eichen House and senior year ended they started spending more and more time together, and while doing so they’ve had _moments_ , several moments that are so much more than those that _just friends_ share and it’s like they have this unspoken rule of _we’re not there yet, but we will one day_.

(It’s what he’s been clinging onto and he’s never hoped to be right this much about anything in his life before.)

Lydia looks at him mischievously and he knows that she’s thinking the same thing, and when she whispers in his ear “You wanna put on a show? They can’t get away with teasing us like this”, Stiles gives her one of the biggest grins he’s ever worn on that pretty face of his because Lydia is so his other half that it hurts!

The complaining on the other side of the screen turns to cheering when Stiles and Lydia tell them that yes, they’ll kiss for the sake of Christmas’ spirit, soon changing to dead silence when Stiles and Lydia face each other and start to lean in.

(When they mock about it later, they both swear they’ve heard someone gasping and inhaling sharply on the background.)

Stiles cups her cheeks, pulling her closer slowly as Lydia grabs his shirt, and several seconds pass with them just breathing the same air, foreheads meeting and eyes slowly closing shut, soft smiles on their lips. But just when they’re about to kiss, Stiles goes for a peck on her cheek instead, bursting out laughing when he notices everyone’s disappointed expression. Lydia can’t help but to laugh along with him, planting a smooch on his cheek for good measure as the others mutter how “That’s not fair” and “What was _that_?” and “I did not sign up for this”.

The rest of the conversation wraps up rather quickly because everyone is slightly annoyed at them for that, even though they agree to Skype later in time for opening their presents right after dinner instead of the next morning, like Stiles and Scott used to do when they were younger.

As for Stiles and Lydia, they decide on resting for a bit before starting to prepare their own meal, because Stiles insists that “I’m gonna cook you the best Christmas dinner you’ve ever had” and she spends five minutes arguing with him because they have absolutely nothing to make the usual Christmas-y meals they were hoping to get today but he assures her that “I swear, Lydia, you’ll love it. Trust me.”

She always does, though. Food is usually on him because she can’t cook for the life of her and laundry is usually on her because not having had his mother to teach him properly has Stiles very, very confused when he’s faced with a washing machine (his dad isn’t great at it either).

It’s a compromise and a mutual agreement they have, with these and so many other things in their daily life in college. And if they stop to think about it for a moment, it turns out that they work better than a lot of the couples they know do, even if they’re not one. Neither minds it all that much.

They don’t have many boundaries any more either, so when Stiles lies down on the couch for a nap, Lydia doesn’t waste time in lying down beside him and turning on the TV, pulling a blanket over them and nuzzling against him comfortingly.

From then on, it’s routine. They watch whatever it’s on until they fall asleep or until they decide that they weren’t that tired after all, only this time things feel different for some reason. Stiles starts dozing off but not quite, trying to pay attention to the screen but not entirely focusing as time passes but Lydia isn’t paying attention at all, her mind drifting to where it’s been going more and more lately.

She knows that they have this unspoken rule of waiting, or so it seems, but for what she’s not sure. The fact that her mother kept insisting while they were talking on the phone earlier that this is, for all intents and purposes, a very special occasion for Stiles and Lydia just doesn’t leave her mind, more so when she finds herself noticing little details about _him_ , about _them_.

How his arm is around her waist like if it belongs there, pulling her to him, his thumb lazily moving from time to time almost soothingly. How peaceful he always looks when his guard is down like this. How calm his heartbeat makes her feel, how safe, even when nothing is happening between them at all like just now. How, twenty minutes into their quiet moment, his free hand finds hers and their fingers entwine effortlessly in an almost rehearsed movement that she doesn’t remember happening.

She ponders and ponders and thinks about it some more, if she should bring up the subject or not, their feelings for each other because whatever they are to be, it seems to be waiting for something to happen between them and she’s not quite sure of what it is and why they’re waiting on it. Her sign comes in the form of Stiles starting playing with her fingers distractedly, and it’s funny to her how he doesn’t even seem aware that he’s doing it.

Before she decides on how exactly to voice her thoughts, Stiles beats her to it, suddenly looking down at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

She tilts her head up and stares back at him, surprised. “How do you know something is wrong?”

“Your heart is beating like crazy.” He’d know, of course. She’s completely pressed up against him. “Are you okay?”

Lydia licks her lips nervously. “Yeah. I uh- I was just thinking…”

She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence, not on her own, and Stiles feels like whatever it is that she has to say is important so he encourages her. “What about?”

Lydia looks down at their hands as if gathering up her courage, and only then Stiles notices what’s happening. It’s not the first time they’ve held hands, far from it really, but it still astonishes him how it always happens so naturally. Lydia doesn’t pull away so he doesn’t either, waiting for her to say something.

“Why are we not doing anything?” Lydia looks up at him under her lashes, licking her lips. “About us?”

Because her head is still resting on his chest, Lydia literally feels how his heart skips a beat, glad to know that he gives in to a smile after that. “I wouldn’t say we aren’t.”

“But it’s not like we’re actively doing something about it either.”

“I know…” Stiles worries his lower lip, a habit he picked up when he’s too nervous and that has always had Lydia getting anxious too.

She moves slowly, untwining their fingers to release his lower lip from his teeth, cheeks burning under his smitten gaze. Her fingers linger on his jaw. “What are we waiting for, then? Because I don’t know,” she chuckles.

Her embarrassment over it - almost shyness - makes him laugh freely, and the way his laughter reverberates through his chest makes Lydia think that if she were to die right at that moment, in his arms and happy as she always is like this, she’d probably go in peace.

“I have no idea,” he murmurs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I… I don’t know, I feel like everyone wants us to be together and I don’t want that to happen just because they do, you know? I don’t want to rush anything or compromise this,” he gestures between them, “unless it’s our choice. Whatever happens, happens. That’s what I’m going with.”

Lydia smiles brightly. It still baffles her how they’re so alike sometimes. “You know, Mom kept reminding me how this is actually our first-”

“Christmas together?” he finishes and she nods. “I know. Dad kept saying the same thing.”

Lydia chuckles. “I get what you’re saying, Stiles, I do. But I don’t want to miss our chance, you know? I mean… It feels like we’re together, but we’re not. Like-”

“Like we’re a couple, even though we’re not dating.”

“Yeah,” she lets out with a sigh, pursing her lips. “Not yet, anyway.”

Stiles smiles. “I just don’t want us to feel like we _have to_ do something just because everyone is pressuring us to. I don’t want it to be like that.”

“So…” She moves her hand to cup his cheek instead of his jaw, her thumb brushing his cheekbone softly. “If we forget about them and just think about us, whatever happens, happens, is that it? And we go from there?” she asks encouraged.

“I should hope so,” he grins.

She mirrors him. “Good. Because I want you to know that I’m actually really excited that we ended up staying home and that we get to spend Christmas together, just us.”

“Me too. And I know we don’t have that much here to make it feel like Christmas, not like we would if we were back in Beacon Hills, but it still feels-”

“Just right.” Their eyes lock for quite a few seconds before she continues, cheeks heating up.

He looks at her adoringly, a small smirk on his lips. “It’s gonna be the best Christmas, I promise.” Lydia nuzzles against him again, contended for the time being, and the hand he had on her waist comes up to run through her hair. “I’ll cook dinner and I’ll let you do whatever you want for dessert. Under my supervision, of course.” He feels her grin against his neck. “And maybe we can dress up just for us, I don’t care that we’re staying in. We can dress up and the others will be dressed up too, for dinner, so it’ll be fun. And then we’ll Skype again and open the presents and just watch some stupid Christmas movie or something…”

“Yeah, or something,” she mumbles.

He chuckles. “It’s gonna be great.”

A silence follows and his eyes are already closed when Lydia kisses the corner of his lips.

xxxxxxxxxx

They nap for close to two hours before Stiles starts stirring and wakes up Lydia with him, and soon the carols are playing a little louder through the apartment and Lydia’s hair is in a ponytail so she can help him in the kitchen, aprons put on for good measure.

Because they really weren’t prepared to spend Christmas here, there’s not much food in the apartment but what they have is more than enough. Lydia begs him to do his homemade spaghetti Bolognese because the sauce he always makes (his mom’s recipe) is just sick and she literally craves it more often than not, and so Stiles starts working on it while Lydia prepares to bake a carrot cake with chocolate topping, his favorite. He makes soup and the garlic parmesan chicken bombs she likes so much, and Lydia puts in the oven some ginger cookies as well. There’s fruit salad and two wine bottles going into the fridge to cool in time for dinner, and neither regrets opening up the box of dry fruits they were gonna give Deaton to complement their improvised Christmas table.

Lydia decides on setting the table when he’s finishing up by the stove, but Stiles stops her and suggests that they put some blankets on the floor instead so they can just sit there, far cozier and closer to one another than they would ever be in the kitchen, warmer because it’s where the heater is. He adds, almost reluctantly, that it’ll be more intimate that way too, _better_ , and it wins him another kiss on the cheek and a giggle from the banshee before she’s turning around to find the blankets and do as she was told.

(It becomes a Martin-Stilinski tradition, one that they’ll repeat for years and years.)

Time flies, and before they know it the table is set and his living room looks beautiful and Lydia looks incredibly breathtaking when she comes out of his bedroom, ready for their evening in a simple red dress, long-sleeved and with no cleavage showing, knee-length, her hair styled in loose curls pushed to the side and barely any makeup at all just the way he likes it.

Stiles stares at her in awe, getting up from the couch where he was waiting for her, and is about to pay her a compliment when he notices her footwear and can’t help but to start laughing. Lydia blushes good naturedly and looks down at her fluffy white slippers before glancing back up at him. “What?” she asks jokingly. “We’re not gonna go anywhere.”

Stiles stops right in front of her, grinning. “I didn’t say anything.” He’s not sure why his hands end up on her waist, but they do. “You look beautiful.”

Lydia moves closer and presses herself against him, biting on her lower lip. “Thank you. So do you.”

Stiles chuckles, looking down at his pair of grey sweats and lacrosse jersey. He’s been waiting for Lydia to finish getting ready so that he can change too. “Yeah, right.”

“Really,” she murmurs, one of her hands teasingly roaming up and down his chest, “you do.”

Stiles leans in out of instinct, his nose brushing hers and a smile freely escaping his lips, and the anticipation makes everything so much better because now it’s like _they know_ that something will happen tonight, and until it does they just have to build up to it to make it better.

(Like that’s even a hard thing to do.)

Lydia just stares at him, stares until it gets hard to breathe just from looking at him and when it happens she lets out a laugh, pushing him on his bedroom’s direction so that he can finally change, her cheeks completely red.

When he’s back (in his – and hers - favorite navy pants and a white button down that fits him sinfully, a grey pullover folded on his arm that he puts away to retrieve in case he gets colder), Lydia is already sitting on the blankets and setting up his laptop so that they can call the others again, and it doesn’t escape him how Lydia moves instantly closer to him when he sits beside her.

Dinner proves to be far more comforting than she ever thought it could be. It hasn’t felt like Christmas in a long time, and if this is what it can be like for the rest of her life then she’s in. She’s all in and she wants nothing but for the feed to be finally cut so that she can tell Stiles that. When it is, when all presents but theirs are open and they say their goodbyes to the others for the night, after they’re satiated and the dirty dishes are put away, Disney Christmas Classics are put on instead of the carols. Stiles and Lydia relax against the couch still sitting on the floor, their presents to each other ready to be exchanged.

Lydia gives him a Star Wars watch - and yes, the one from Seiko’s new line with Darth Vader on it, that to Stiles costs a fortune but that Lydia swears on her life she got cheaper than it is because she made her dad use his connections to find her a good deal (her father didn’t even hesitate in helping her out if it meant to reconnect with her, so it was a win-win) -, and she loves the watch almost as much as Stiles probably will because the watch is _him_ , and it’s such an adult-looking watch that she thinks it’s perfect for him, especially now that Stiles has been looking for a part time job, so that way he can still be the nerd that he is and look professional at the same time, and Lydia is glad that she found such a fitting gift.

Before she can explain more about it, it makes him teary, trying it on, both because he’s in awe with the watch and because Lydia spent so much money on him when Stiles didn’t spend any on her gift, not at all, so it’s almost sadly that he hands a small, long jewelry box to her. It makes Lydia nervous, the way he looks at her then, more so when he starts apologizing because his gift will never compare to the one she gave him and that he doesn’t know if he can accept her present after all.

Lydia dismisses it, making sure that the watch stays on his wrist before opening the box he offers her, and she’s the one whose tears fall first when he explains that it was his mother’s favorite, a silver bracelet with two intricate chains that keep entwining, the smallest of stones in between each twirl binding both chains together.

“When dad and I were packing up my things before you and I moved here,” Stiles explains, “we went through some of my mom’s stuff because we never really had before and it was time for us to do so. Some things we gave away and some we kept, but when I saw this he told me that it was her favorite, and that it was the one he liked to see the most on her because it looks perfect and really beautiful from afar, but if you look at it up close you’ll see that there’s a stone missing…”

Stiles takes the bracelet from Lydia’s shaking hands to show her. “Here, see? And it’s chipped right about here, and here,” he continues, turning it around and pointing at the imperfections. “Dad’s fault, long story,” he chuckles nervously. “But Dad told me that it was _her_. The bracelet reminded him of my mom because he loved how perfect and beautiful she was, but that her flaws were what made her unique, even more beautiful in his eyes.” His voice breaks before his gaze returns to Lydia, who has tears running down her cheeks silently. “And when he told me that, I thought of you. That’s just… _You_ , perfect in all your imperfections and Dad saw the way I was looking at it and told me that I could have it, to give to someone I deemed worthy and… And you are.”

He whispers the last words as if he isn’t allowed to say them out loud, and Lydia struggles to swallow the lump on her throat to murmur her response, extending her wrist to him. “Put it on.”

A tear escapes his eye as well. “You don’t have to, Lydia. I’m sorry, I should have gotten you something els-”

“Please, I want to try it on. Can I?”

He searches her eyes intently, lower lip quivering. “Are you sure?”

Lydia can only nod, letting out a breath to dissipate her nerves when the bracelet is on her. It does look beautiful, and upon further examination she finds a couple more imperfections that just make it look more distinctive, and the way it feels heavy on her arm has nothing to do with its weight. “I love it, Stiles.”

“You don’t have to keep it, Lydia. Really, I’ll just buy you-”

Lydia purses her lips and gives in to a watery smile. “I don’t need anything else. This is… This is so much more than enough. It’s… It’s perfect, Stiles.”

“Really?”

Lydia nods again. “Are _you_ sure you want _me_ to have it, though? Maybe you should hold on to it until you’re sure that I’m the one you want to give it to and-”

“I’m sure” is all he replies with.

He’s known it for the last ten years.

“I feel like my gift to you is so overrated now,” Lydia half-chuckles, half-sobs, staring at the bracelet again.

“I love it, Lyds. I wish you hadn’t spent so much money on it, but I love it. Now I can be geeky and people won’t even know,” he laughs. “And it looks so neat,” he says, checking out his new watch again as well, mesmerized.

“I don’t think you’re aware of this, but there’s a reason why I bought it.” Stiles stares back at her, expectant. “The first time we marathooned Star Wars, I remember you saying that you used to watch it all the time with your parents when you were little, before your mom got sick, and I’m pretty sure you thought I wasn’t paying attention to what you were saying but I was. Yes, you are a bit of a nerd over a couple of things and Star Wars is one of them, but it means more to you than that. It’s part of the memories you have of your mom and the family you had then, so I was hoping the watch would remind you of that.”

There are a couple of seconds when Stiles just doesn’t breathe, doesn’t do anything really because he wasn’t counting on this Christmas to be so unpredictable, but then he’s babbling in true Stiles’ fashion, the words coming out of his mouth hurriedly. “I know we have this whatever it is going on where we’re waiting for I don’t know what, but it can stop now, can’t it? Because I really, _really_ want to kiss you.”

Lydia beams, getting closer to him and entwining her fingers behind his neck, her forehead resting against his for a few seconds too long before they finally give in, and it’s fireworks and magic, a symphony of thumping hearts and unsure, then softer but bolder lips moving together, heavy breaths released to a space that doesn’t exist between them anymore, and all that they can think of is that _they are home_.

They’re both smiling when they part, rosy cheeks and sparkly eyes and lips begging to meet again. And it’s no surprise that they do really, repeatedly, and that Stiles and Lydia end up doing the dishes together only after the banshee makes sure that Stiles knows just how exactly his room doesn’t fit both of them after all.

(“There’s a bed, Lydia. We don’t have to make out on every damn surface here,” he mutters sarcastically, to which she replies with a defiant, teasing glare when he bumps into his desk chair and trips on the carpet as if to prove her point as he makes his way towards the other end of the small room, where she’s standing just waiting for him to meet her. “Okay, fine, fine. I’ll move.”

She makes sure to show him just how grateful she is that he’s open to the idea of finding somewhere else to live.

He’s the one showing gratitude when she ends up ditching her dorm too for a bigger apartment for the both of them a couple of months later.)

It also comes as a surprise to everyone else that, the next morning, when they Skype with the others over breakfast and they are asked about the storm, Stiles and Lydia confess that they totally forgot about it. More so when Stiles and Lydia are the ones demanding that their family and friends ask them to kiss under the mistletoe again, and when they lock lips everyone is ecstatic, overjoyed to find out that they’re together, that it finally happened after so long, and Lydia doesn’t miss the proud look that the Sheriff sends his son’s way when he notices that Lydia is wearing Claudia’s bracelet. She makes sure to call the man privately to thank him for that afterwards.

Christmas day is but a blur, spent lazily on the couch watching TV and online talking to the pack, snacking on leftovers and singing – poorly and surely out of tone – Christmas songs at times. Their Christmas is Stiles freaking out about his watch with Scott and Liam and neither returning his enthusiasm properly, although his dad now wants one too. It’s Lydia facetiming her mom when Stiles is in the bathroom to let her know that Dad finally did something that turned out to be good for her, and then calling Kira to fuss over how much she loves her new bracelet and to tell her friend the events from the day before in detail. It’s Stiles and Lydia getting to know each other better in a way that’s new to them, but not for long anymore.

It’s an unexpected Christmas, one that for sure they weren’t counting on. But years later, when they reminisce and have their kids sitting on their living room’s floor and there’s a big Christmas tree and a fireplace, and their house, _their home_ is properly decorated for the holiday, they tell their children for the first time the story of how their first Christmas together went, and only then Stiles and Lydia realize that it was not their best holiday. It wasn’t the funniest or the most romantic or the most Christmas-y Christmas of all the ones they’ve shared so far, but it still is one of their favorites.

And when their kids ask them _why_ , Stiles and Lydia smile at each other and kiss, and their six year old daughter does this cute embarrassed face that she hides against her three year old brother’s shoulder - who’s sitting beside her on the blanket distractedly petting their new puppy -, not understanding just yet what her parents mean when they reply with “Because it was the first of many.”

She’ll get it though, when she’s older and something similar happens to her and a _friend_ , and she ends up being the one calling Stiles and Lydia to tell her parents that she won’t be coming home for Christmas one time, and the next morning they’re being formally introduced to the man who’ll turn out to be their son-in-law.

But for now, Stiles and Lydia live in the moment. And right now their Christmas is messiness and laziness and leftovers and bad movies miles away from their loved ones, but it’s the best Christmas they’ve ever had and it’s only their first, and they couldn’t be happier about it.

**Author's Note:**

> I recommend you go check that Star Wars Darth Vader Seiko watch because it’s totally Stiles if he was a YA and looking for a job/already working, and it’s just absolutely gorgeous. He’d flip about it and I can easily see him with it.
> 
> Remember that a follow-up one-shot to this fic will be posted in a few days.
> 
> As always, please leave a review and let me know what you think :)


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